


Caged

by SouthronWildling



Series: On the King's Road [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, this is pretty gratuitus and i don't even care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthronWildling/pseuds/SouthronWildling
Summary: Jaime and Bronn finally reach the Inn at the Crossroads. OR. Depressed and sulky Jaime isn't really witty, and Bronn buys a whore.





	Caged

**Author's Note:**

> Because Roqueamadi requested more, and now a one-shot has somehow turned into a five-part something or other. Welcome ladies, gentlemen, and non-binaries. Let me know if I should update the rating from M to E, because I'm not sure where the line is. Or the tags, because I honestly don't know. Let me know if I need to correct anything that seems out of place, because I honestly, seriously, don't know. I've done the best I could to be true to their characters and true to life, but... I'm just getting used to writing sexy scenes, and I'm a Sansan or Sandor/OC shipper, and this is leagues away from my usual go-to, and I'm a little shocked at how this is coming out of my head. So feel free to criticize constructively and comment lots because the third installment is nearly finished and the fourth and fifth are roughly outlined.

It was a relief when the inn came into view.

Jaime looked down at his gloved hand and made sure the gold was completely covered. He wasn't sure if word could have spread from Kings Landing ahead of him, but it couldn't hurt to take precautions. 'At least my hair has darkened over the years,' he thought. 

Bronn drew up alongside him, then chirruped at his horse to urge it on a little faster. "C'mon, then," he tossed back over his shoulder. "A bath, hot food that isn't molding, and a warm bed. Wine, and maybe a woman if you're lucky. Clear you out and set you to rights for the rest of the journey, aye?" He trotted on ahead, and Jaime sighed and kicked his heels lightly into his horse's sides to catch up. Once their horses were put up, they shouldered their packs and went inside.

The common room was crowded. Jaime wondered where the people wedged onto the benches eating and drinking and making merry were intending to go. 'Rats climb in a flood, but where do the smallfolk go when winter is upon them?' he thought.

"We've only the one room left," the woman said. Bronn gave her a one-shoulder shrug.

"S'alright," he said and ran his tongue across the front of his bottom teeth. "We'll want baths."

"Aye, just a mo' and my girl will have the first ready." She had her hand out.

There was a small chink as Jaime passed her the coins. "Supper and wine, later," he said.

She examined the money in her hand. "One more," she returned, and he tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Winter is coming, milord. Prices climb, when things is scarce." Bronn flashed his eyes at him, tipping his head towards the woman, and Jaime gave her two more. "Melly!" she shrieked. They stood near the stairs in the common room, and a few minutes later the woman returned with two buckets of hot water, followed by a lank-haired girl carrying two more. He and Bronn followed them upstairs. The girl made eyes at him and licked her lips, but he looked away, and when he looked back, she smirked at him.

The bath filled, the women departed, and Jaime sighed in relief at being alone again, before he tensed again. He wasn't alone. Bronn was still there. They'd barely spoken the last two days. Nothing had been said about how Bronn had found him, and no mention at all of what Bronn had said before they'd both gone to sleep; it was as if it had never happened. He'd almost convinced himself that he'd imagined it. But as Bronn set down his pack and he set down his own, the air felt strangely charged, like a thunderstorm was drawing close. As if lightning might flash at any moment and thunder would rumble, vibrating the floorboards and the glass in the windowpanes. 

Jaime threw off his cloak and draped it over the single chair in the room.

"It's hardly the Rock, but it's not a rough camp either," he said, breaking the silence. He shoved his loose sleeves back and worked on the straps that held the metal hand to his arm. It ached, and he missed having a wrist and being able to rotate it to relieve the ache in the muscles of his forearm.

"Always the snob. It's a featherbed, ya cunt, and better than I expected."

"I'm not a snob," he said, a little sulkily. His left hand quit the leather straps and moved to remove his doublet, then to untie the lacings of the tunic at his throat. He'd be better able to remove the hand then. He jerked and and stumbled backwards a little when Bronn's hands were there to assist.

"Oh, leave off. Can barely dress yourself, how do you even tie up your breeches after you piss?" he asked.

"Very carefully," he answered, but his left hand had fallen back to his side as Bronn's sure fingers loosened the ties and then drew the   
tunic over his head. He focused on the top of Bronn's head as the man bent a little to work on the leather straps, then pulled the metal hand off his arm. A thousand fantasies shot through his mind at the same time, but he fought them back. Bronn was just... being helpful. Or wanted a bath, too, and he was taking too long. When Bronn drew away the red silk cap that encased his stump, he bit his lip as the man's fingers slid across his arm, but he kept himself still.

"I'll come back for my bath in a while," but Bronn's eyes didn't meet his. He seemed to be staring at Jaime's shoulder. "G'wan then." LIght blue eyes flashed from the doorway before it closed, and Jaime shucked out of his boots and breeches and sank into the hot water.

\---

Bronn had drunk a bit when he returned to the room with two plates and a wineskin and the girl with more hot water.

"I can make myself scarce for a bit," he told Jaime. He set down the two plates and held up the wineskin, then jerked his head towards the girl, who was bailing the tub with the empty buckets that had been left behind and then poured the fresh hot water into it.

"Not my type," he answered. The girl looked over at him and arched her back as she poured the hot water, then lifted her eyebrows and smiled, but when he frowned at her, she finished pouring the water in and gathered up the buckets with a sour expression and a half-hearted curtsy before leaving.

"Not blonde enough?" Bronn was stripping out of his tunic and breeches without an ounce of modesty and stepped into the bath with a sigh. 

"Don't," Jaime said from where he sat on the bed, dressed in a pair of breeches and nothing else, his back against the headboard. He tore his eyes away from the other man's profile and studied the blanket on the bed, and then the food on the table.

"It's good pie. Should've seen th' lad what made it. Lad knows his food. Go ahead and eat while I sluice off."

Jaime tucked in, sitting on the single chair. The pie was good, with a flaky crust and well-seasoned gravy that was thick enough for the chunks of meat and vegetable. He thought he might have enjoyed it even if he hadn't only eaten jerky and stale bread and bad cheese and apples for a week.

"Sorry about the girl," Bronn said. He'd been underwater and had just re-emerged, his hair clean but dripping water down his shoulders. Jaime had glanced at him as he spoke, then looked firmly back at his plate. "Thought you'd want one, what with you headed up north and all."

"Bronn, in all the time you've travelled with me, when have I ever sought out a tavern girl?"

"Well, no. Realize y'haven't. I just thought, what with you leaving your-"

"Yes, fine. I've left her. I'm finished with her. Do you know she told that thing to kill me?"

"No, but I'm not surprised. Glad it didn't end that way, though."

Jaime glanced back, his mouth full, and swallowed as Bronn's eyes met his. The sellsword's face was open and honest, his eyebrows lifted and his chin canted slightly. He drew a quick breath and looked back at his food and took another bite as he heard the water slosh when Bronn got out of the tub. He shoveled in one forkfull after another as Bronn dried off behind him, then heard the man move closer to the table. When he looked up, Bronn had the drying cloth slung low around his hips, but he hadn't moved to his pack, nor had he donned the discarded clothing on the floor.

Bronn grabbed a bite of the pie on the other plate. "I ate while I was downstairs," he said, after he'd chewed and swallowed. "But a second taste never went amiss." He grabbed the wineskin then and drank deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing. Jaime swallowed but the tension that had been building inside him didn't abate. The sellsword's chest and abdomen were on full display, muscles rippling beneath his skin. The line of muscle that rose from the drying cloth, diagonal near his hip, where his abdominal muscles narrowed into a triangle, was especially enticing, and he drew a shallow breath when he forced himself to look away. 

"So. Should I call the girl back, and head downstairs myself?" Jaime asked.

Bronn cocked an eyebrow at him. "What for?" he asked. He sat down when Jaime got up and devoured the rest of the food methodically, with the drying cloth still wrapped around his hips and his chest and arms bare in the light of the fireplace and few candles. Outside, the sky was growing darker. Jaime sat on the edge of the bed with the metal hand in his lap. He was dreading putting it back on. The weight of it, for one thing, dragging his arm downwards, but also the pressure it put against the stump, and the roughness against his skin. Even with the silk cap, it chafed. 

"Leave it," Bronn said. Jaime glanced up to watch the other man set their plates outside the door, before he closed and barred it. "You hardly need it now, when you're about to sleep. Not like you really need it otherwise."

Jaime held up his forearm and waved it back and forth. "As if other people want to see this," he said.

"No people here. Your sister didn't want to see that. I couldn't care less," Bronn answered with a shrug. He jerked the cloth from his hips and draped it over the edge of the tub, then stalked over to his pack where he drew out a set of braies and pulled them on. He moved to the other side of the bed. "You good like this? Or do you want to top 'n tail it?" Bronn's eyebrows were halfway up his forehead.

Jaime's breath caught in his throat. He briefly pictured Bronn laid out in the bed next to him, the man's legs stretched out near his chest and his feet by his head. Flashed on them laying together, pillows and heads shoved close together and his hips pressed against close against a welcoming heat. 'Stop it, it's not like that,' he thought.

"No, this is fine."

Bronn climbed into the bed without another word and lay down beside him. Their elbows grazed each other momentarily and he tried and failed to quell the thrill that shot through his arm and chest at the sensation. Jaime leaned over and blew out the candle closest to the bed and settled back against the pillow. He could feel the heat radiating off Bronn. The bed coverings were warm and the mattress was soft, and he waited for his muscles to relax, but it didn't happen. His legs were fine, but his abdomen was still tense and he rubbed his thighs together once before he shifted again and rolled over onto his side.

Bronn gave a little laugh behind him. He shifted and pressed his chest against Jaime's back, but kept his hips and legs apart from him still. One arm was thrown across his middle, the palm of his hand splayed out above his navel. A thumb moved in small circles, but that was all. Jaime's entire body stiffened up, then relaxed against Bronn, then stiffened up again. This was Bronn! In all the time he'd known the man, he'd always been very careful to keep his own thoughts to himself, and Bronn had never shown the slightest...

"Are you a maid, then? Thought you weren't, but I could've misjudged." Bronn shifted again and his erection pushed firmly against Jaime's left buttock. 

"Not a maid," Jaime gasped, as Bronn's hand stroked his chest. "But I haven't... like this... since I was six and ten. It was only twice, then, anyway." Bronn had been stroking his chest but now he nipped the back of Jaime's neck and his hand had dipped lower and was squeezing the base of his cock. Both sensations were exquisite and he arched his shoulders, pushing his neck and hips backwards against the warmth behind him. Bronn's mouth sucked greedily against his throat and shoulder. 'But I thought.. I thought..,' crossed his confused mind.

"Thought you wanted a wife," he managed.

Bronn's hand left his cock and shot fast as lightning to his shoulder and pushed him flat on his back. Before he could blink, Bronn was on top of him, trapping his legs between muscular thighs and pressing his hands against the mattress on either side of Jaime's head. His ankles hooked over Jaime's shins and held his lower legs down. Panic flared briefly. He was trapped in a cage made of Bronn's arms and legs, and while he thought he could probably throw the man off of him, the featherbed was too soft to give him a good launching point and he wasn't entirely sure he could actually do it, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. He gripped Bronn's shoulder with his hand and pressed against the other with his forearm, instead. But Bronn merely leaned into the resistance, his face coming closer to Jaime's until they were only inches apart.

"You barely speak for two days, and you choose now to be chatty?" With the fireplace at his back, Bronn's face was mostly in shadow but his voice sounded amused. "Aye, I want a castle, and gold, and a pretty highborn wife. Just because I like venison doesn't mean I don't like chicken and fish and boar. And besides," he said, and now his face was so close that the words were breathed directly into his ear, "You're a lot prettier than Lollys Stokeworth." 

Teeth nipped his earlobe then and Jaime hissed in a quick breath and stroked his hand down Bronn's side, feeling the play of muscles and ribs and a slight quiver when his hand came to rest just above Bronn's hip. Hot breaths panted against his ear and then kisses, just soft enough not to bruise, were being sucked against his neck. Jaime almost whimpered, it felt so good. But then the man drew back away from him, and he felt Bronn's hand against his face, his lower lip being traced by a calloused thumb before it was pulled down slightly, parting his lips.

"So if I've misread the situation, and you really weren't casting all those longing looks in my direction, let me know now. Otherwise, I'm sick of us beating around the bush and beating off in the bushes."

Jaime's brain hadn't completely caught up with what was happening enough to form coherent sentences, but somehow his hand was against the back of Bronn's neck (and he still hadn't even worked out how his hand had gone from pushing against Bronn's shoulder to stroking along his hip, nevermind anything else) and was pulling him down, which worked out nicely when Bronn's lips met his and his tongue slid against his and he felt a swooping, falling sensation that couldn't have been real because his back was still pressed firmly against the mattress. Bronn was kissing him with an intensity that was nothing like Cersei, and her face flickered in his mind only for a split second before Arthur's face replaced it. But this kiss was nothing like Arthur, either; the knight had only kissed him right at the start of their two... experiences... and only briefly. 

No, this kiss was all Bronn, and his mind's eye filled in the picture that the dark of the room hid from him. Bronn's hair dangling to brush against his cheekbones and jaw. Those were Bronn's forearms, with the ropey veins that stood out against the skin, sliding around his shoulders. That was Bronn's hand, raking through the hair at the back of his head and then sliding down his chest and back up again. That was Bronn's mouth, moving insistently against his and he shuddered a little, too many emotions coursing through him and his cock was so hard it hurt, so that he had to buck up against the sellsword's body just to feel some kind of relief.  
Bronn pulled back then, still hovering over him but much closer than he had been before. "Thought so," he said, panting a little. "You alright?"

Jaime pressed his right arm around his back and laid the stump of his arm between Bronn's shoulderblades and pulled their chests together as best he could. He pressed his face into the crook of his neck and drew a deep, ragged breath, trying to collect himself.  
"Can we..," Jaime wasn't sure how to articulate what he wanted to ask. "Can we just be like this and not..?" and he let the fingers of his left hand drift back down Bronn's back and slide across the man's buttocks. It felt good, touching him there, but he wasn't at all certain he wanted things to feel like they had when he'd been a newly anointed knight, and he was too old and too jaded to go through that again, after everything else. He closed his eyes and felt his face tensing up, waiting to hear the answer.

Bronn slid off him, then, moving so that his body was half on the bed and half across him, one leg over his and a hand that played briefly across his jawline, his collarbone, before it came to rest where it had begun, just above his navel. Slow circles were being described across his stomach by a thumb again, and he turned his head towards Bronn, trying to see his expression, but it was too dark in the room. He felt his lips captured once more, but the kiss was gentler, and when Bronn pulled away again, he sighed.

"If ya want to do something, then we will. If ya don't, we won't. Just say so. It's not that complicated," Bronn said. "I'm not going to fuck you tonight in any case; I don't have any oil. I thought you were going to have that girl."

'Oil?' he thought, and his mind drifted back in time for a moment, wondering, but he was soon pulled back into the present as Bronn's mouth was trailing across his chest and a very calloused, very knowledgeable hand was stroking his lower stomach and then closing around his length, and pretty soon coherent thought went out the window. 

He came with Bronn's tongue in his mouth and Bronn's free arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him against the sellsword's body, and when he dragged his lips away with a groan, Bronn had actually laughed, but it was good-natured, not mocking. 

"Much prettier than Lollys," he said, with his lips pressing lightly against Jaime's neck. They laid there together, quiet for a bit, as Jaime's breathing settled down. Bronn's hand let him go after a minute or two and swept up his side and down again in firm strokes, not tickling, then trailed across his chest. He felt like he should say something, but he couldn't for the life of him think what. It just felt good, being pressed against a warm body that was hard and muscular and not demanding anything from him, and he could feel Bronn's cock against his thigh and it was hard as well and twitching a little and he thought about touching it. But his left hand was still fairly useless; you only had to see his handwriting to know it.

"C'mere," Bronn's voice drifted out of the dark, and he felt his hand caught by another hand, fingers twining with his. Their joined hands were moved to gather up his spend, and then his hand was grasping Bronn's stiff cock and Bronn's hand was over his, instructing. He shifted a little, pressed a few tentative kisses against Bronn's neck, and let let himself be guided.


End file.
